"The Ramones are going to crawl out of their graves to lick my ass. Believe that shit."
4 AM is the most spiritual hour of the day. When night dissolves into day. The magic hour. The liminoid phase of dreaming. For this project, we ask artists to set their alarm clock at 4 AM and create something covering their lucid dream state at that moment. Divine creations at the most ungodly hour. 4 AMEN.
Picture shot by BEA1991
Lucciana Bolivar is a Colombian-Honduran videographer based in Amsterdam. She centers her work around multi-disciplinary media which she uses to enrichen her videos – ranging from written poetry, drawings and paintings, to photography, 3D works and film research.
During OMG there are horses in the void, she will enrich us with a visual experience/performance, focussing on identity, politics and the surrealistic atmospheres that arise within the city centre of Amsterdam.
We asked her to set her alarm clock at 4 AM and asked her one question.
How do you feel when you write poetry at night?
Most of the time, it’s this burst of accumulated emotion which signals me to write. These poems come to me in a very quiet state of mind, in a dark and tired one too. Nevertheless, they always come in a focused and privatized state, in which everything blurs out onto a piece of paper and I simply start writing. These states are as positive and as emotionally heavy as they could get, because there is this process which I am constantly trying to understand as a type of reasoning.
The fact that the urge to write comes at night, makes it plausible to me that at the end of a day, I have acquired some progress, especially when it comes to love and pain. It’s when poems find me and when I’m ready for them, as they create their own space and time to be heard. It is the coming to terms with certain conclusions to constant knowledge, resonance with the world around, and to magic. It’s been the push and pull behind the meaning.
Now we know fear
Now we know fear, heeding
Frost, at the back of our hands
spiralling in explosion
towards a sea of thought.
Sanctuaries full of people
The vitality is lost,
but never permanently
as nothing good can ever
be erased from memory.
As the ground stutters with anger,
with threat of destruction,
the blow of the darkest breath
will open up the sky,
and in the end,
let through a vacant space
for true glory.
Nature will transcend,
a prophet, staying only a reminder.
She’s been bitten
She’s been bitten by love,
and has wept through the night.
She has slept it off, stripped down on her bedding.
Her body, her past, the hours, the night.
— Her “tomorrow” has passed, and as it glimpses into the now,
she has woken up with solitude, regretting nothing.
Catch Lucciana Bolivar 21 December at OMG there are horses in the void! at OT301, Amsterdam. Show free for members.